Deleted Lunch Scene
by heavenhelpmyheart
Summary: We never got to see Blaine buy Kurt lunch. Now we have. Klaine one-shot.


**A/N: So I decided to write a short Klaine one-shot for the lunch scene we never got to see. I'm actually sitting on my roof, waiting for the sun to come up. It's 5:30 in the morning, and I haven't slept all night. I'm not even tired. It's horrible. For the purposes of this fic, Home took place last February, and NBK took place during October.**

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><p>Blaine didn't know much about the boy sitting across the booth. He knew that he went to McKinley High school, was in their Glee Club, had been bullied and now sexually assaulted, and that his main bully was really a closet-case. Other than that, he knew nothing about him. Yet, he had interested Blaine from the first moment he had appeared on the staircase at Dalton, dressed in an adorable yet inaccurate version of the Dalton uniform, and he felt strangely protective of him.<p>

"Thank you for this." Kurt spoke for the first time, still staring at his glass of water as if it held the meaning of life. It hadn't been an uncomfortable silence, but it was definitely nicer to be talking.

"It was the least I could do," was the first thing that popped out of Blaine's mouth, his Dalton manners taking over.

"It's nice all the same." Now the silence was awkward. Blaine knew he had to find someway of breaking the tension that had been created, but he wasn't sure what to ask. If he asked about Glee Club, Kurt would assume he was attempting to spy, but he didn't know anything else about the boy.

"So, what do you enjoy doing, besides singing?" Perhaps not the most eloquent of conversation starters, but it served its purpose.

"Hanging out with my girls, mostly shopping and watching musicals. Awkward attempts at bonding with my quasi-step-brother, ex-crush and former tormentor. I was a vocalist for my school's cheerleading team for a while, though I guess that falls under the category of singing." There was a smile, shaky as it was.

"Somehow I can't picture you as a cheerleader." Blaine said with a smile, hoping to receive one in return.

"The cheerleading coach at McKinley is well known for being rather intimidating, and slightly crazy. She forced my best friend Mercedes and I to become cheerleaders as a twisted version of a 'thank you' for attempting to give her a makeover." Kurt said, playing with the straw in his water, but not drinking.

"I can picture you giving someone a makeover." Blaine grinned.

"Makeovers are like crack to me." Kurt answered automatically.

"Now what exactly is a quasi-step-brother?" Blaine also wondered about the 'former tormentor' part, and hated the 'ex-crush' part.

"His name is Finn, and his mother is dating my father. I set them up, for misguided reasons, and they've been dating for about 8 months now. We all suspect they're going to get married, and probably soon. I'm not sure how I feel about that though." Kurt said with a slight frown.

"Why?" Probably not the best way to phrase the question, but Kurt understood what he meant.

"For one thing, I have quite a history with Finn. An unfortunate history, one might say. Plus, Finn would then be known as 'the fag's brother' and it would hurt his reputation, despite the fact he had no choice in the matter. For another.. I like Carole, don't get me wrong. I set them up after all, but she'll never be my mom." Blaine didn't like hearing the word fag coming from Kurt's lips, it didn't fit the image of the untouchable, icy prince that Kurt wore as protection.

"Not that I know her or the situation, but I doubt she'll try to. She'll never be your mom, it's true, but maybe she can help bridge the gap your mom left behind?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Kurt bit at his upper lip, clearly thinking over the issue too much.

"Hello, sirs, may I take your order?" The waiter walked up to interrupt their conversation.

"Fettuccini Alfredo, please." Kurt answered without looking at the waiter, handing the man his menu without taking his eyes off his water.

"Lobster Ravioli." Blaine had been extremely happy to discover that there was a rather nice Italian place in Lima.

"I'll get that right away." Taking Blaine's menu, the waiter left without another word.

Unfortunately, the conversation seemed to have died in the waiter's wake. Kurt wasn't saying anything else, simply looking at the table top. Blaine wondered if he was normally this subdued, or if it had to do with the situation at school.

"What's Dalton like?" Kurt asked suddenly, meeting Blaine's eyes for the first time.

"Very structured, but a nice school. It's a lot like a college, really. All the teachers are very interested in their particular subject, and teach in different ways. It doesn't really offer a lot of fun classes, but there are a lot of extra curricular's." Blaine rattled off immediately, saying anything that came to his head.

"Interesting." Kurt quieted again, and didn't say anything until the waiter came back with their meals. "I'm sorry for being so quiet. I'm still just kind of shaken up. This week has been.. hectic to say the least."

"It's perfectly understandable, Kurt. It must have come as a big shock to you that your main aggressor secretly wanted you." Blaine mentally slapped himself. If that wasn't the worst way to put it ever, then he would jump off the Dalton Academy roof.

"That may just be the understatement of the century." Kurt smiled, picking at his food a little, but not eating.

"Not in the interests of spying, how's Glee?" Blaine asked, looking for a safer topic.

"Boring and repetitive as always. It's the second annual boys vs. girls mash-up competition this week. The boys' number is an apology to Coach Beiste, the football coach, not the crazy cheerleading one, for something that they did. I don't even know what it is, but it must have upset her, because it caused her to quit. She's the reason the football team started winning. McKinley has been on a losing streak for years, the only game they won last year was the one I kicked for and made them dance to _Singles Ladies_ at. They need her." Kurt said, finally becoming chattier and.. warmer was the word Blaine would use to describe his walls coming down.

"_You_ played _football_?" Blaine was honestly shocked. Considering the worst of his bullying was from the football team, and he didn't seem like a sports kind of person, it didn't really make sense to him.

"To try and gain my dad's approval, and to cover up a lie. It was at the very beginning of last year. Finn helped me get on the team, and I only stayed on the team for a month, at max." Kurt explained away the surprising statement.

"You made them dance to _Single Ladies_?" Blaine asked, amused.

"They needed a way to loosen up, and become of a singular purpose. It was half Finn's idea, and they didn't even care, because it was the only game they won all season." Kurt said, slightly smugly.

"Well, I'm impressed. So, since you enjoy watching musicals, do you think Madonna was a good Evita?" Blaine asked, looking for common ground between the two of them.

"Absolutely." Kurt responded excitedly.

"Wrong answer." Blaine teased.

"Madonna was an icon, and an amazing Evita. She was especially incredible because she could change her look from an innocent girl dreaming of stardom, to a slut sleeping her way to the top, or the beloved woman who betrayed all her people in the end."

"Oh, please." Blaine started.

The two spent the rest of the time arguing Original Broadway Cast vs. Original London Cast vs. Movie for all the musicals they could think of. Blaine payed, despite Kurt's protests, using against him that Blaine had said he would _buy_ Kurt lunch. Kurt relented with a grumble.

Blaine knew it'd be a while before Kurt was fully comfortable and happy around anyone, but he knew that they had started something.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm not sure if I like this, I'm too sleep-deprived, but I'll post it anyway. I started a Somewhere Only We Know fic, but will finish it after the episode premieres, so I can take what they did with the scene and fix it as I deem necessary. Almost 6 AM, and I haven't gotten a wink of sleep. Fantastic. Where's my coffee?**


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